


Rewrite an Ending Or Two

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, I ship Molly with happiness, Light Angst, Molly Hooper being strong, Post series 4, Romance, Songfic, things we wish would happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Nobody has ever bothered to ask Molly Hooper what she really wants out of life, or what her personal and professional goals are. She knows very well it's been too long that her happiness has taken second place, and it's time for that to change. Of course, this will all come as a bit of a surprise to a certain Consulting Detective.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonstone1520](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstone1520/gifts).



> This was a prompt from "moonstone1520" for a one shot based on the beautiful and feelsy song "She Used to Be Mine" by Sara Bereilles. Now I have to make a note here, I only later even realized that this song is from a musical. I also didn't immediately realize what the musical's general plot was or what the exact circumstances were during the performance of this song. From what I now DO understand...basicallly forget where this song came from lol! I listened to this lovely song countless times and came up with this one shot based only on the general theme of the song, which to me is that this is a woman whose life is not what she wants it to be and she herself is no longer who she wants to be. Just wanted to explain that, seeing as this fic is not at ALL the same as the plot of that musical.  
> Also, I was motivated to write this the way that I did because there seems to be a lot of talk about the finality of the upcoming series 4 of BBC Sherlock. It sounds to me like they may be sort of wrapping things up with this one, and perhaps this will even be the last we see of Molly Hooper. Who knows though! I know nothing, it's just a theory!! But anyway, because of all the whispers of finality, I wanted to write a bit of a sherlolly conclusion. Naturally, this is how I WISH it could turn out...oh how I wish! :)

It was hard for Molly to wrap her head around. She glanced around her little flat, which was the home she’d known for close to ten years now, and reminded herself for the millionth time that soon it would be empty, devoid of any trace of her life there, and it would be called her home no more.

She was about halfway packed, so it hadn’t hit her terribly hard yet. She knew the complete emptiness in another week was what would really throw her for a loop. But she was glad at the same time, and she was awfully proud of herself. This was what she wanted, and she was finally going out there and getting it.

Molly heard a knock at the door, making her set aside the newspaper and boxes to answer the door. No sooner had she opened the door and said, “Oh hello, Sherlock” than the man had swept into her flat looking very obviously determined.

“I’ve just heard of your...situation, and I’ve come to offer assistance,” Sherlock stated seriously.

Molly nodded. “I’m guessing you went looking for me at the hospital and heard the news from them. My schedule is a bit different for my last week or so. But I’ll be there tomorrow if-“

“Right well thankfully nothing is final yet,” he said with a sigh as he took in the sight of her partially packed up flat. “You are Molly Hooper, specialist registrar at Saint Bart’s Hospital, and I have no intention of allowing anyone to push you out of a job.”

She blinked, in a bit of shock at his blatant misunderstanding. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m certainly willing to speak to whoever is needed. In fact, I’ll even involve my brother. It pains me to say so but it’s possible his words and influence would carry a bit more weight than my own.”

“Sherlock,” she began with a pained expression. But she wasn’t allowed to go on.

“To think they’d have the nerve to force you out after all the years of expert work you’ve put in!” Sherlock complained angrily. “Those idiots in management wouldn’t know a quality employee if it bit them in the-”

“Sherlock!”

“Hm?”

Molly sighed. “Ok um, I think we need to back up just a bit. It might just be that you’re not really looking at things from the right angle.”

“How exactly do you mean?” he asked with a little huff of amusement at the suggestion.

Molly stared back at him evenly and eventually turned away to pick up a small clock on the side table by her couch, carefully wrapping it up with some of the newspaper.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you before this,” she said calmly. “I know you’ve been laying low since, you know, everything got settled around here again and you came back from the um...rehab facility. And I’ve been so busy this past week that I hadn’t got a chance to come by Baker Street.” She looked at him again. “I wanted to though. I did want to tell you.”

“Molly,” he began again, his know-it-all tone still untouched. “Those particular details are unimportant, I’m simply here to offer to fix-“

“Did you know that I’d planned to get into research by a few years ago?” Molly asked, purposely but gently interrupting his rather predictable train of thought.

Sherlock stared at her silently at this question.

“And did you know that I had originally hoped to only live in London for a few years? And that I actually prefer life in the country?”

More wide eyed silence.

“No, you wouldn't know those things,” Molly answered for him with a small smile. “And it’s not your fault either. I don’t really talk much about what I want and need, do I? No…but I’m trying to change that now.” Her smile widened a bit.

He paused again, his temper a bit deflated by her softly resolute manner.

“S-so you’re saying this move, this job change...this is what you want?” Sherlock asked more gently.

Molly nodded, her face brightening a bit. “Yeah, I’m really excited about it. It’s a primarily research position, maybe a bit of teaching too. It’s something I’ve been more seriously working toward for almost a year now actually! But things really moved along quicker when I made contact with an old medical school friend and she told me that her group at Cambridge Pathology Research was looking for someone with my set of qualifications. It barely even took much convincing!” She blushed a little. “They offered me the job after just one interview and seeing all my experience. So, since it’s about an hour and a half outside of London, it was definitely no good going back and forth every day. Just didn’t make any sense. I mean, I’d been saving a lot over the years, living in this tiny place. So I’d gotten enough together to afford something of my own. It’s funny to think of having a house that’s all my own. I might have to get a dog,” she said with a little laugh.

Sherlock’s eyes brightened for a brief moment, but then he looked down again. “You’re sure then? Leaving London and Bart's completely?” he asked, seeming to have a hard time grasping the finality of it.

Molly felt her heart start to pound a little harder. “Yeah, I am,” she confirmed, but began fiddling with her hands a little. “And I really hope you understand why I’m doing it. I just- I don’t want you, of all people, to think I’m running away from anything. Or that I’m angry, or desperate, or sad. This is just what I want…have for a long while...and I don’t think it’s right to do nothing about it anymore.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to be mulling this over. Then he looked back at her. “You’d meant to do this years ago.”

Molly nodded.

“And what exactly pushed off your goals and held you here for this long?”

She chewed her lip and gave Sherlock a somewhat sheepish look. This was a bit more than she’d planned to get into with him. Yes, she wanted him to realize that she wasn’t running away because he still hadn’t made any significant move, or that she was creating some sort of ultimatum. But she hadn’t really planned on admitting to the fact that he might be largely responsible for keeping her anchored to London for as long as she had been.

"Look, um, Sherlock, I wasn’t trying to say-"

“I wish you all the best,” Sherlock stated suddenly, stepping forward and extending his hand.

Molly paused in shock for a moment at his shift. But then she finally reached out and took his hand, joining in the slow and firm handshake. “Thanks,” she whispered.

There was a moment of hesitation, and Molly could almost see Sherlock deciding whether or not to lean down and give her cheek a kiss and she held her breath. After a moment, Sherlock seemed to decide against it and she let out a shaky breath as his hand slipped away and he glanced around at the boxes again. “You’ve obviously got your hands full, so I suppose I’ll let you get to it.”

He looked down at his feet where Toby wound around affectionately and he frowned. “Ridiculously dim animal,” he grumbled. “He spends years hiding from me and _now_ he decides we’re the best of mates!”

Molly cracked a smile. “Maybe he’ll miss you after all.”

Sherlock’s eyes met hers again. “But I’m sure he’ll be happy just the same,” he said softly.

She nodded, and there it was again, a moment between them that she was hoping and dreading in equal measure, but as usual, she kept perfectly still, waiting for him to decide.

It passed when he quietly said goodbye a moment later, and then he was gone through the door and out of her flat. Molly couldn’t help thinking that that may just have been the last time Sherlock Holmes ever shoved his way into her home without the courtesy of asking. This was such a big, wonderful, and thrilling move for her. And it all meant the world…but she had to admit that she’d miss that.

How she would miss that obnoxious genius of a man.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Molly took her extra large mug of tea off the kitchen counter and strolled into the cozy sitting room to park herself in her favorite cushy chair by the fireplace. She set the mug down on the side table and arranged the throw blanket over her lap, pleased at the fact that she had an entire evening to herself. She had a book she’d been itching to start reading, and then she had big plans for falling asleep while watching crap telly in her pajamas. It was shaping up to be the best sort of night.

She smiled a little as she glanced around her flat. It had taken her some months to get it looking truly homey and arranged to her own taste, but for the past few weeks she could honestly say that she felt settled. Walls had been painted, pictures had been hung, windows had been dressed, and all her worldly belongings had been properly arranged throughout the little house.

Molly reached over to grab her book of choice off the shelf and had to move some of the greeting cards to the side in the process. She knocked off the one that had been signed by the Watsons, Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade, and Sherlock. Everyone else had written at least a few sentences of congratulations or encouragement on her new venture, but Sherlock had simply signed his name. Not surprising. He wasn’t one for sappy greeting card speeches. He had quite obviously been strong armed into his signature but had stubbornly refused to do anything else beyond literally writing his name.

He hadn’t attended her little going away party either. It wasn’t a grand event of course, but she did appreciate the gesture of her fellow employees and supervisors. They had thrown something small together for after one of her last shifts, surprising her when taking her to one of the larger conference rooms for a last minute “meeting.” Mike Stamford had managed to get almost all her friends from outside the hospital to attend as well…almost all. John and Mary apologized profusely for Sherlock’s absence and explained how they’d tried to convince him. But she had assured them it was ok and that she wouldn’t have expected him to make it. It certainly wasn’t his sort of thing, and she didn’t mind in the slightest.

She lied a little though. It would have been nice if he had been there for a final send off, despite the fact that he’d already wished her well.

Molly set the card carefully back on the shelf and then took a sip of her tea before opening to the first page of her book. Of course it was at that moment that Toby’s head shot up from where he was curled by the fire, and then she heard a knock at the front door. With a huff of frustration she pulled back the throw and got up from her nice little spot, wondering who in the world could be calling at past dinner time on a Wednesday.

She shuffled over to the entryway, and as she did her heart skipped a number of beats as she saw the unmistakable mass of dark curls through the small arched window near the top of her door. She froze for a moment, looking down at herself and weighing the possibility of rushing upstairs to put some proper trousers on instead of pajamas….but no. Molly shook her head and took a deep breath. This must be an emergency, so this wasn’t likely the time to care about her looks.

As she unbolted the door and opened it, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions at the very familiar eyes staring back at her.

"Sherlock, hi.” Her tone naturally conveyed a bit of her surprise.

“Hello, Molly,” Sherlock responded in that comfortingly recognizable baritone.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?” she hastened to ask, which made him frown in apparent confusion.

“Mm, not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

Molly let out a short laugh, relieved but still rather perplexed. “Oh, well, that’s good. I’m glad things are ok. I just asked because well…you’re here, aren’t you? Figured something must have happened.”

"No, no," he confirmed again, rocking on his heels a bit. "Things are much the same in London.”

Molly smiled and there was a brief awkward pause before it occurred to her that she should ask-

“Would you um, like to come in for a bit?”

“Yes, please,” he responded with an accompanying grin as she stepped aside.

Molly shut and latched the door as Sherlock went through the little entryway and headed automatically down the hall toward the kitchen. She laughed to herself. He always did tend to go straight for her kitchen. She followed him and went for the kettle as she half observed how he was taking in the new surroundings.

“So are you working a case?”

“Hm?” He glanced back at her from where he was peering out the back door that led out to the small fenced in yard and garden. “No, no case.”

“Oh…ok,” Molly set the kettle on the burner and wondered how many different ways there were to ask _why on God’s green earth he’d shown up at her house tonight?!_ “Earl Grey?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She tried not to blanch at the sheer volume of polite phrases he’d used in less than a minute, watching him as he perused the line of family photos that were hung along the hallway wall.

“These were mostly packed away when you lived in London,” Sherlock commented.

“Yeah that’s right. There’s probably double the wall space in here. Now I barely have enough family photos and art to fill the place!” she said with a little laugh.

“No dog yet, I see,” he said, coming back into the kitchen.

“Oh you remembered that. Well yeah, I suppose I haven’t had the time to work on that yet. I’ve been so focused on settling into the new job and getting this place completely moved into. I still might look for one though. Maybe once I can take a bit of holiday time for training it.”

Sherlock cleared his throat. “I happen to know a few things about dogs. I could certainly offer some suggestions when and if the time comes.”

"Really?" Molly tilted her head, regarding him with a bit of wonder. “Well yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.”

A few moments later the kettle reminded them of its presence and Molly prepared Sherlock’s cuppa. She handed it to him and he followed her into the sitting room.

“This seems a quality home,” he commented while taking a seat on the sofa which faced the fire. “It’s well constructed and has been repaired and kept up where needed over its lifetime.”

“Yeah,” Molly agreed, sitting on the opposite end. “It’s nice, I really like it.”

“Shamefully small garden,” Sherlock said with a slightly teasing smirk.

“It’s a garden nonetheless,” she countered, her head held high as she returned his playful smirk. “Those were a bit hard to come by in the city if I recall.”

“Toby seems content in his typically useless fashion.” Sherlock took a sip of his tea while glancing at the animal who was stretched out by the fire.

“He seems to be right at home now. Took him some adjusting of course. And he didn’t know _what_ to do with the outside for a while! But now he absolutely loves being able to go out back and chase butterflies and lay in the sun. He’d probably never be able to go back to the city now!”

The corner of Sherlock’s lips tugged upward. “And I imagine you feel the same.”

Molly pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Yeah I guess so. I’m pretty happy here. It’s a nice sort of life…quiet, peaceful, comfortable.” She smiled. “And I really like the work.”

“Cambridge University is treating you well then?”

“They’re lovely, yes. And I’m already working on a research paper. I mean, it’s not all my own, but I am collaborating with some colleagues. And it’ll still be pretty exciting to see my little name printed at the bottom of a page some day!”

He looked at her, strangely serious all of a sudden as the orange light from the fire danced along the contours of his face.

Molly paused and took a sip of her own tea, which had since grown tepid. Finally she looked back at him, and after steadying her nerves she opened her mouth.

“Sherlock,” she said softly. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t that what ‘ _friends_ ’ do? Visit each other?” he asked, his tone familiarly defensive.

Molly continued to stare at him, making sure to keep her face carefully neutral, but not accepting his answer.

He stared back at her for a moment, eyes unreadable. But then he set his cup down on the side table and clasped his hands in his lap. “I wanted to see that you were happy,” he answered, words spoken slowly and carefully.

Molly’s lips lifted for a second. “Well that’s- that’s very nice, thank you. And yes, I am happy.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Nobody deserves to have what makes them happy more than you. There have been a great many times when you have been the means of giving others what they need. But you, Molly, should finally have what you need.”

Her eyes were locked to him, and she was having a hard enough time regulating her breathing, let alone making any response to those unexpectedly tender words.

“That’s um…” She swallowed thickly. “That’s sweet, Sherlock. It’s really lovely to hear you say that.”

Sherlock took a swig of his tea before leaning forward and speaking again.

“I’ve thought a bit about what you said before you left. How you admitted that there were things you never told people you wanted or needed. Things you never spoke of.” He hesitated just briefly before going on. “I have perhaps kept a few of those sorts of things to myself as well.”

“Oh? Some grand hopes and dreams of your own then?”

He let out a short laugh and smiled. “Perhaps not as grand as you’d assume.” He drew a deep breath and then spoke again. “For instance, did you know that I too don’t wish to live in London forever?”

Molly raised her brows in definite surprise. No, she would not have guessed that.

“And I have no intention of full time crime solving into my old age either. I should like to eventually live a different sort of life, even pursue hobbies…such as bee keeping.”

“Bee keeping? Really?” Molly asked with a smiled and Sherlock nodded.

“You see, Molly, there are things that I want which I rarely speak of,” he said softly. He looked down for a moment, almost nervously, before continuing. “And some things I’ve never spoken of at all. Partly because I never honestly thought I would live past the age of 30, and as a result that I have done so, I have taken some time recently to think and try to plan for the future.”

Molly was riveted by now. “Yes?” she prompted, hoping that he’d want to continuing opening up.

Sherlock sighed heavily, as if releasing a weight off his chest. “I didn’t want you to leave, Molly,” he whispered, his eyes staring into hers with unmistakable honesty.

“Oh.” She still questioned the context, despite the way he gazed at her, and was therefore a bit hesitant in what her response should be.

“But as I said, I wanted you to have what you need. It seemed the wrong thing to do, to ask you to stay in London.”

“B-but why would you-“

“Because I need to be where you are,” he answered bluntly, anticipating her question. “Because I need you.”

Molly stared at him with lips parted and eyes a bit wide.

"You, it happens, are that wish that I’ve held onto for quite some time but never quite got around to making become a reality.” He smiled briefly. “I suppose I waited a bit long, haven’t I? John has often said I can be spectacularly ignorant in this department.”

Molly licked her lips, drawing a breath and preparing to finally make some sort of response to this shocking information. “Sherlock,” she began gently. “I…I can’t come back to London. Not now.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he quickly clarified. “I didn’t come here to try and ruin the new life that you’ve settled into. In fact, it was very much by design that I waited as long as I did. I wanted to be sure you were unpacked and comfortable and that your professional schedule was set and they were treating you well.”

“And you found all that out before you came, did you?” Her lips lifted in an amused smile.

Sherlock returned her little smirk. “Well, I am still _me_.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” she prompted, now especially excited to get back on topic.

“What I’m saying is…” Sherlock reached across the the empty space on the couch and covered her hand with his. “It meant more than you know to have you as part of my life for all these years, Molly. But now I’m wondering if perhaps…perhaps you’d allow me to be a part of yours?”

Molly pressed her lips together as her smile widened, feeling her eyes burning a bit with threatening tears.

“Allow you?” She laughed. “I would have already asked you myself if I thought there was any chance you’d say yes!”

Sherlock grinned back at her, automatically shifting his seat down the couch in order to be right next to her. He paused though, once he’d done it, a bit of hesitance setting in. And that went for both of them really. It was one thing to open your heart with words, but that first touch, first embrace, first kiss…those things held a physical power that could not be erased or undone once released. After so many years as friends, a moment like that had the power to alter both their lives with no chance of going back again.

“S-so you’d like to maybe…visit regularly?” Molly whispered to him, his face now distractingly close.

Sherlock had placed his arm around the back of the couch, near her shoulders but still not embracing her. “Mm, I would, yes,” he murmured in reply.

“Just personal visits then, right?” It was a valid question, thought she couldn’t help an amused smile. “We’re not talking about cases or experiments?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment. “Yeees,” he answered a bit hesitantly.

“You’re eventually going to try and show up at Cambridge University aren’t you?”

“Mostly likely, yes,” he then admitted freely.

“Don’t push it,” she added with a warning look.

"Of course, it is possible some of the time spent here could be used professionally. I could begin to take some cases in the area.”

“Mm, that’s true,” she agreed. “And logically, you’d need somewhere to stay while working them. Silly to go back and forth to London every day.”

“Definitely a waste of time,” he agreed with a mischievous smile.

Molly nodded and smiled. “I certainly wouldn’t mind if you were to call this your, oh I don’t know…home away from home?”

“You always have been,” Sherlock said very seriously. “Nothing terribly new.”

She felt her chin quivering a bit and had to bite back her emotions again as she reached up and stroked his face, smiling a little as his eyes shut at the feeling of her caress.

“I missed you, Molly,” he whispered. “Far too much.”

Molly said nothing more, but instead leaned forward to finally close the distance between them and press her lips to his. It clearly caught him off guard a bit, since he hadn’t closed his eyes yet, and she felt him jump just slightly and hiss in a breath at the sudden and intimate contact. But seeing as he was Sherlock Holmes, he caught on rather quickly after that brief moment of shock.

Sherlock’s arm came down around her shoulders and pulled her in nice and snug as he tilted his head to deepen their kiss with an accompanying sigh of contentment. Molly responded by sliding her arms around his middle, inside the warmth of his coat which was far superior to the heat coming from the fireplace. This felt like heaven…pure heaven. And despite the fact that this new and improved Sherlock who placed her life and goals in such high priority was impossibly sexy, she was also hoping that he’d be a touch of his good old pushy self and move in by next week without barely consulting her on the decision.

She wasn’t so very far off.

Sherlock began visiting at least weekly after that first night. He became a fixture in Cambridge, and did naturally begin taking some cases in the area. By a few months later, Molly had him by her side in front of that fire at least half the nights each week, speaking of science and medicine and research…and often not speaking at all.

The complete shift was understandably not immediate. Not even after the wedding bells rang some six months later. No, Sherlock continued to spend time, even days at a time occasionally, in London to work as a private detective and sometimes assist Scotland Yard. And he kept many things at his flat on Baker Street too. Fully moving out of 221B was the very last thing to eventually go. (Not that he’d ever want to get rid of it completely, seeing as Mrs. Hudson had lovingly left the bunch of flats to him in her will.) And that move only happened when he was really and truly ready to live that highly anticipated but rarely spoken of “quiet life in the country” full time.

And all the while, Molly had her own lovely life. She had what she’d always hoped for, and more, which included the man she’d always loved. Sometimes she wished she could have gone back in time and told herself that this would all happen eventually if she was patient.

Sometimes when she’d be helping Sherlock work in their basement lab and he’d walk over to suddenly kiss her breath away, or as their wide eyed children asked their parents to explain something from their work in science or crime solving, or as she watched Sherlock helping the little grandchildren suit up in beekeeping gear and head out into the garden…sometimes she wished to have the power to show these scenes to that girl she was years ago. That quiet, mild mannered, and sometimes overlooked pathologist who worked tirelessly at Bart’s hospital and tirelessly for her friends.

But no, she’d think, smiling to herself.

The surprise was so much better.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for the prompt moonstone1520! I really enjoyed writing this one, and hope you enjoyed reading it. Hope it didn't stray too far from the prompt lol! ;)  
> *Thanks to Lexie for helping me polish up this one shot!*


End file.
